“You’re more than shy. You’ve got some kind of phobia.”
“I talk to you. I talk to Marcus. I talk to salespeople and clients and other dog walkers.”
“Congratulations: you’re not a complete social cripple.” Delilah flinched. “I didn’t mean that,” he said, reaching out to touch her. Delilah pushed his hand away.
“This is why dogs are better. They don’t criticize. They don’t say hateful things.”
“They also don’t hug you, kiss you, make passionate love to you, tell you you’re beautiful, make you laugh, take you to the dog show, or defend you against refrigerator-sized assholes in the park.”
“That’s true,” Delilah said quietly.
Jason reached again for her hand; this time she let him take it. “I’m not asking you to completely change your personality,” he said, brushing his lips against her knuckle. “I’d just like us to enjoy going out with people without it being a major source of stress for you.”
Delilah seemed impatient. “I know, but can I point something out?”
“Sure.”
“You were bored senseless at the dog show.”
“That’s not true.”
“Jason, you fell asleep! Not only that, but if your schedule allowed it, you’d be out every night of the week.” Delilah peered at him accusingly. “Am I right?”
“I just moved to Manhattan! Do you have any idea how amazing this city is to me? How much stuff I want to do?”
“You’re right to want to explore everything the city has to offer. But our ‘problem,’ if you want to call it that, isn’t just my shyness. It’s that we like different things.” She dropped his hand. “Tell me your idea of a perfect evening.”
Jason squirmed. “I can’t answer that.”
“Try.”
Jason forced himself to be honest. “A perfect evening would be the Blades completely destroying another team out on the ice—preferably my brother’s—followed by you and me partying afterward with a group of my friends. It would conclude with you and me having mind-blowing sex.”
“Want to hear my version of a perfect evening?”
No, thought Jason, but he nodded anyway.
“My perfect evening is: you come over to my place, we order in pizza, we watch Animal Planet or a movie we’ve rented, and then we go to bed and make love.”
“That sounds okay.”
Delilah looked surprised. “Does it?”
“Occasionally.”
“How often is ‘occasionally’?”
“Once a week?”
“How about half the week? To be fair?”
“I’m usually playing hockey at least three nights a week. Sometimes four.”
“Fine.” Delilah sounded huffy. “Let’s say you’ve got four games one week, which leaves us with three evenings free. How are we spending them?”
Jason felt the first stirrings of tension at the base of his neck. “This is one of those trick questions, isn’t it?”
“Just answer.”
“I’d say we spent two evenings out—not necessarily with friends, maybe just going to the movies or out to dinner”—he said in a rush—“and one evening in.”
Delilah shook her head. “Two evenings in, one out.”
“No way.”
“No way to what you want!” Delilah retorted. “Especially if I’m boarding dogs.”
Jason ran his hands back and forth over the top of the steering wheel. “Maybe you could gradually phase out that part of your business.”
Delilah looked indignant. “You’re not serious.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“I need the money, Jason. I’m self-employed.”
Jason shrugged easily. “I’ll give you the money to make up for that part of your business.”
“No!”
“You don’t want to give it up because it gives you an excuse to be a hermit,” Jason accused.
“I don’t want to give it up because it helps me pay my rent, and I enjoy doing it! You enjoy hockey, don’t you?”
“Hockey isn’t interfering with our relationship!”
“Says who?”
Jason scrubbed his hands over his face. “We’re going around in circles here.”
“No kidding.” Delilah sounded tearful.
Jason’s hand groped for hers. “I care about you, Delilah. I want this to work.”
“Me, too.”
“Then we’re going to have to figure out some compromises.”
Her hand squeezed his. “Like what?”
Jason looked at her sadly. “I don’t know.”
“What’s the matter, dolly? You seem distracted.”
Delilah shook herself out of her daydream to see her father peering at her with concern. He and Brandi had come in to the city to “treat” Delilah to Sunday brunch, a gesture she could hardly turn down. Ever since she’d consented to shop with Brandi, her future “stepmother” considered them fast friends, and Delilah was too much of a wuss to disabuse her of that notion. Plus, it seemed a small price to pay to make her father happy.
“It’s nothing,” Delilah fibbed. The last thing she wanted to do was confide her romantic woes to her father. The man had sparred his way through nearly thirty years of marriage and was now engaged to a living, breathing Barbie doll. She was better off turning to Marcus for relationship advice.
Her father crinkled his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Leelee. And while we’re at it, finish those eggs. You’re way too thin.”
Delilah ate a mouthful of runny eggs to please him. “Better?”
“I’d be happier if you cleaned your plate. Now what’s wrong?”
“Just—stuff.” Delilah pushed aside the sausage her father had insisted she order to the side of her plate. “Boyfriend stuff.”
Her father’s hackles immediately went up. “He’s treating you well, right?”
“He’s treating me fine, Dad.” Delilah reached for a piece of toast. “We just have a few differences we need to iron out. That’s all.”
“If you say so.” He looked unconvinced. “Why didn’t you bring him with you today?”
“He left for a road trip this morning.” This time Delilah wasn’t lying.
Delilah couldn’t decide if Jason’s leaving so soon on the heels of their disastrous date was a blessing or a curse. Maybe a few days apart would give them time to mull over what they’d discussed and what, if anything, could be done about it. But Jason’s departure also left Delilah with a lingering sense of uncertainty; she hated that they’d parted without any real closure.
“How’s his team doing?” her father asked.
Delilah knew her father; he had zero interest in sports whatsoever. Yet here he was, making an effort in a noncritical, minimally intrusive way. She wished her mother were here to learn a thing or two.
“They’re doing well. They’re leading their division right now.”
“Very nice,” said her father.
“How’s that other hockey player doing?” Brandi asked, staring innocently at Delilah over her mimosa. “You know, that friend of yours we ran into after shopping?”
“He’s fine,” Delilah said tersely. Brandi wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Eric. Not while she was sitting next to Delilah’s father.
Brandi sipped her drink. “He was nice.”
“He’s my boyfriend’s brother.”
“They both play hockey?” Delilah’s father seemed surprised. “It must be a very athletic family.”
Brandi suppressed a giggle, while the insinuation seemed to fly right over Delilah’s father’s head.
“They grew up in North Dakota, Dad. There wasn’t much else to do.”
“As long as he’s treating you well,” her father reiterated.
“He is.”
“I’d like to meet him sometime.”
“You will.”
“Does he have a good mattress?”
“Dad.”
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me, Delilah. A good mattress
is crucial to one’s health, as you know. You tell him if he needs a good mattress, he should come to me. I’ll give him a great deal.”
“I’ll tell him. I promise,” Delilah muttered. Anything to get off the subject of mattresses, which her father could go on about for hours.
Her father grunted into his salami and eggs, then asked offhandedly how her mother was. Delilah couldn’t hide her surprise; usually her father waited until Brandi was off “powdering her nose,” or at the very least out of earshot, before enquiring after Mitzi.
“She’s fine.” At least that’s what Delilah assumed. They hadn’t spoken since Mitzi had lured Delilah out to Long Island for the “emergency.”
“I heard through the grapevine that schlemiel she was seeing dumped her.” There was a touch of unrepentant glee in her father’s voice. “For Myra Talman, of all people. That had to sting.”
“Dad, why do you care? I mean, really?” Delilah stole a quick glance at Brandi. She didn’t seem to be listening, fascinated instead with twirling the tiny paper umbrella that came with her drink.
“I don’t care,” her father insisted gruffly. “I just hear things.”
Things you sniff around for, thought Delilah. “Can we change the subject, please?”
Her father frowned. “Sure.” He took another bite of salami. “How’s business?”
“It’s going great, except it’s a little crazy right now: I lost my assistant, and I haven’t found a new one.”
“I’ll help you!” Brandi volunteered.
Delilah smiled politely. “I thought you were working at the spalon.”
Brandi’s eyes began filling up. “I got fired.”
God, please don’t let her weep into her huevos rancheros, Delilah prayed. She supposed she should feign concern. “What happened—if you don’t mind me asking.”
Brandi cast down her eyes. “I messed up a spray-on tan.”
“The woman had orange and white stripes!” Delilah’s father hooted. “She looked like a creamsicle with eyes!”
“It’s not funny, Sy!”
Delilah’s father patted Brandi’s hand. “I know, bunny wunny, I know.” Delilah didn’t like the expectant look in his eyes as he turned to her. “Brandi could be a wonderful asset to you, Leelee.”
“I love dogs,” Brandi added.
“I appreciate the offer of help,” said Delilah, trying to keep in check the feeling of being guilted into something she didn’t want to do, “but it doesn’t make much sense. You live out on Long Island, Brandi.”
“So? I’ll commute in.”
“No offense, but when we went shopping I got the sense that you weren’t a big fan of the city. You seemed obsessed with crime.”
“No one’s gonna hurt me if I’m protected by doggies,” Brandi pointed out brightly.
There was no way Delilah was going to win this one. If she turned Brandi down, her father would begin lobbying by phone day and night, and Brandi would do the same. It was easier to let Brandi try it and then quit.
“Let’s give it a try then,” said Delilah. “We can work out the details later.”
“Oh, goody!” Brandi clasped her hands together. “I can’t wait to work with the dogs! And get to know everyone in the neighborhood.”
Delilah smiled sweetly. “I’ll bet.”
“Yo, Mitchie.”
Jason hated admitting it, but he’d been avoiding David and Denny since dinner the night before. He’d shown up at Met Gar in the sourest of moods, convinced they were going tease him about Delilah. Now, hearing Denny’s voice behind him as he was about to climb onto the team bus, he knew he’d simply been forestalling the inevitable. Jason stepped aside to make room so others could board.
“What’s up?” Jason asked, turning up the collar of his coat. He couldn’t believe how cold it could get in the open-air tunnel between Met Gar and the adjoining train station, the wind whipping through with a vengeance. It reminded him of standing on the school bus stop in North Dakota as a child. He and Eric would freeze their nuts off. It would get so cold their snot would freeze before it even had a chance to leak from their noses.
“Last night was fun,” said Denny.
“Yeah,” Jason agreed cautiously.
Denny’s mouth tilted into a slight smirk. “Your girlfriend’s a little shy.”
“She can be.”
“I have to confess,” Denny continued with a derogatory chuckle, “that I was a little surprised.”
“Why? Lots of people are shy.”
“No, not that.” Denny glanced around. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“C’mon, dude. Think.”
Jason was in no mood to play games. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Denny.”
Denny leaned in and whispered, “I was surprised you’re going out with a Jew.”
Jason felt as if someone had just kicked his heart up into his throat. “What did you say?”
“C’mon. Delilah Gould? Total Hebe name.”
Jason grabbed Denny and threw him up against the side of the bus. “I should beat the shit out of you right now.”
“Go ahead,” Denny sneered. “Kike lover,” he added under his breath.
Jason’s right fist landed a solid blow to Denny’s jaw. Denny looked dazed for a second; then he began swinging wildly. It was no use: Jason had him pinned like a butterfly mounted for exhibit. Jason used it to his advantage, landing two more short jabs to Denny’s ribs before releasing him with a shove. Denny crumpled to the asphalt with a groan. Before Jason could get in a much-desired kick, two of his teammates jumped in, holding him back. Struggling against them, Jason watched as two more helped the dazed Denny to his feet.
“Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Ty Gallagher’s voice echoed ominously through the tunnel as he strode into the center of the melee.
“It’s nothing,” said Jason. He tried to shake off the teammates restraining him, but they wouldn’t let him go.
“Don’t give me the ‘It’s nothing’ line of bullshit. It doesn’t wash.” Ty inspected Denny and his rapidly swelling jaw. “What did you say to him?”
“I didn’t say anything!” Denny protested.
“Don’t insult my intelligence, O’Malley.” Ty pushed Denny’s handlers away, planting himself in front of him. “I’ll ask it another way: Why did he hit you?”
Denny hesitated. “I dissed his girlfriend.”
“Good one.” Ty’s glare was cringe-inducing. “I’m trying to build a team here, and you two are fighting like pussies on the playground.”
Jason hung his head. “I’m sorry, Coach.”
“You should know by now that sorry doesn’t cut it.” Ty turned to Denny. “You. Get your ass on the bus. Now.”
Denny nodded, holding his face as he dragged himself onto the bus.
“Get one of the trainers to give you some ice!” Ty barked after him. He wheeled around to Jason, his expression of disgust holding steady.
“You gentlemen can get on the bus, too,” he told Jason’s teammates. Jason hadn’t realized how hard they were holding him until they released him: His arms were throbbing as he waited for Ty to tear him a new one.
Ty took his time, staring at Jason as if he were an exotic yet somewhat repulsive specimen in the zoo he’d never seen before. The longer he stared, the more Jason longed to yell in sheer frustration. Finally Ty just shook his head sadly and sighed. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”
“With all respect, Coach—”
“Did I say you could talk?” Ty snapped.
“No.”
“Nice to see you’re not deaf.” Ty tilted back his head, staring up at the concrete ceiling. “I’m trying to think of a nice way to say this.”
Jason awaited his coach’s next pronouncement. The longer they stood there with everyone else on the idling bus, the more time Denny had with their teammates to spin his version of what happened. Jason didn’t want this ugly
incident hanging over the rest of the season. He was relieved when Ty finally deigned to speak to him.
“I don’t care if O’Malley said your girlfriend is a dead ringer for Jabba the Hutt. I care about one thing: the team. Fighting fucks that up. It wrecks morale, and I won’t have it. If you want a future with this team, Jason, you better start thinking seriously about impulse control both on and off the ice. Am I making myself clear?”
“Totally.”
“Good. Now get on the bus.”
Jason nodded humbly and climbed up on to the bus, which fell silent. Not quite looking at anyone, he scoured both sides of the aisle for a seat. There was one open next to Michael Dante. That was out, since that’s where Ty usually sat. The other available seat was next to Denny O’Malley. Jason would never understand God’s perverse sense of humor as he made his way down the aisle to sit beside the man who judged his girlfriend on her religion, not her personality or values. Neither said a word the entire way to the airport.
CHAPTER 17
“ I’ve never seen a dog that big in my life!”
The childlike wonder in Brandi’s voice almost made Delilah like her. Delilah had just brought Stanley downstairs from her apartment, and together she and Brandi were taking him to the park. Jason paid extra to have him walked privately, and Delilah enjoyed spending time alone with Stanley. It was fun to see people’s reactions to him. Plus, silly though it might be, it was a way for her to feel close to Jason.
Stanley wasn’t built for speed. Even so, Brandi was struggling to keep up with them. “You might want to wear sneakers rather than high heels if you’re serious about wanting to help,” Delilah pointed out.
Brandi glanced down at her Candies. “I guess you’re right.” She eyed Stan nervously. “Does he bite?”
“Does he look like he bites?”
Brandi bit her lip. “No. He looks like a big mush.”
“He is a big mush.” Delilah patted his back affectionately. “Aren’t you, Stan?”
A woman and small girl approached. As they drew closer, the little girl’s eyes doubled in size. “Mommy, look! Beethoven!”
“I saw that movie!” Brandi chimed in.
The mother flashed an indulgent smile and quickly moved the child along.
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